Four Times Dean Apologized To Sam
by VivaMissSexy
Summary: Let's pretend for a few minutes, just a few, that John was weak enough to slip into the darkness, pretend that John made different choices, and took a different turn. This is the result of those choices, and how they affected Sam and Dean.


This is a very dark fic, and it involves the abuse of very young children, both physical and sexual. Not for the weak minded and in some cases stomachs.

**Four Times Dean Apologized To Sam**

_1. _

****

_Dean: 6_

_Sam: 2_

Sam's been talking for awhile now, not really sentences, just a few words he's picked up, or a phrase or two. When Dean steals a book from the local library to read to Sam, a Dr. Seuss book _Are You My Mother?_ Sam claps and squeals when Dean starts reading, and points at the pictures, the biggest smile on his face.

Dean's heart sinks when Sam points at the book and says "Where Mommy, Dee? Mom-mom?" Dean swallows the lump in his throat and grips Sammy tight in his arms, and holds him close for a few minutes, pressing his face into his hair and whispering "I'm sorry Sammy, I'm sorry." Then does his best to grin as Sam in his infantile happiness, sticks his finger up his nose, unaware of the pain and suffering descending on his family_._

_2.  
**  
Dean: 8**_

**_Sam: 4_**

The first creature Dean ever killed was for Sam. They were outside in the park area, close to the car, and away from the forest where John was hunting down the black dog preying the area.

Dean is keeping guard of Sammy who was in the sandbox playing with cheap gas station toys, and making all sorts of noises.

The music in the impala stops, and Dean reaches into the glove compartment, to pull out another tape, he's beginning to like these "Led Zeppelin" guys.

"Look Dee, a puppy!" Sam jumps up and shouts, pointing frantically, and racing over as fast as his chubby legs could go.

Dean looked up briefly at the situation, and nearly screamed in terror when he saw Sam running straight toward the black dog. He grabbed the shotgun from the backseat, and ran after Sam, pushing him out of the way, and pulling the trigger just in time. The bullet went straight between the creature's eyes, and with a whimper it collapsed onto the ground.

Dean unloaded the gun and dropped it, racing down to Sam whom he'd pushed in the mud, and checked him over for damage, nothing but a bruise and scraped knees.

John came storming out of the forest, eyes wide with fear and then sighed in relief at the sight of his boys safe and sound. He charged up to Dean and gripped him tight in an embrace, and then glared at Sam, who shrunk back, tears already forming, and released when John gave him a sharp slap across the face.

"God damn it Sammy, what the fuck were you thinking? You could have gotten Dean and yourself killed, don't you understand?!"

And Dean can't do anything, he can't tell his father that Sam _doesn't _understand because Sam's only four. He can't tell John that Sam doesn't know anything about the monsters that lurk around every corner and in every shadow, because Dean refuses to tell him for as long as he can, because God damn it, Sammy's his responsibilty, and he won't hurt Sam with the truth.

When John stalks off to the car, Sam curls up in a ball on the ground, and is sobbing, terrified from the gun, but more so from his father, without a clue of what's going on.

Dean picks Sam up, presses him close and says "I'm sorry Sam, really, I'm sorry."

Dean won't hurt Sam with the truth, but that doesn't mean that Sam will never experience pain, or suffering_. _

**_3. _**

**_Dean: 10_**

**_Sam: 6_**

Sam had just started Kindergarten in Rhode Island. He had made a friend, her name was Francie and she was tough, tough enough to beat up the mean First Graders that had tried to take the lunch Dean packed for him.

They liked to sit on the swingsets, telling each other their secrets, Francie about how her brothers took turns touching her, and Sam about how his Dad smelled like beer and hit him when he got mad.

Francie told Sam that he needed to start locking his doors then, he absolutely had to because her brothers started smelling like that, and hitting her, and then they ended up in her room, every night and _hurt_ her. She began to cry, saying that she didn't want Sam to get hurt like she did. Sam hugged her and made sure to remember to ask Dean if Francie could sleep over with him, he'd stand guard and make sure her brothers didn't hurt her, and they could play hide and go seek, tag, and house all day long.

Afternoon Kindergarten ended, and Sam kissed Francie, right on the mouth for being so nice to him, and to make her feel better when her big brother gripped her hand and led her away. He waved solemnly at her, feeling sad about the dead look in her eyes, and turned to go find Dean, who was against the bike rack waiting patiently.

"Dean, is it alright if-" Sam began, but Dean cut him off with "We're leaving tonight Sam, we gotta pack up our stuff before Dad gets back, or he'll get mad at us. Dean shifted, a guilty look on his face, because by now, John getting mad at _us _translated into John getting mad at _Sam_.

"But...but no, I can't leave, Francie needs me, and Miss Evans says I'm the smartest kid in the class, in the whole grade even!"

Dean kept his head tilted, he wouldn't look at Sam, these days he couldn't look at him.

"Please Dean, please I don't want to go, I like it here!"

"I'm sorry Sammy, but Dad said so, and you don't want him to get angry at you again, right?"

Sam shuddered and froze in place, lip quivering, remembering a few weeks ago, when John last got upset. If Dean hadn't broken that bottle over John's head, Sam is sure John would have killed him.

"Sammy, do you want Dad to get mad at you again, is that what you want?"

The tears were falling now, and Sam rubbed a grimy sleeve at his nose, doing his best to stop the snot. "No, no I don't want him to get mad at me, Dean!"

"Then you have to be a good boy Sam, and do what Dad says, no matter what it is, okay, just do what he says and...and maybe he won't hurt you so much, did you ever think about that?!"

Sam kept his head down and whispered that he'd start packing his duffel as soon as they got home, and Dean wanted nothing more than to take a knife to his own chest, because hurting Sam was like killing himself, but sometimes he needed to, to keep Sam wholly safe in the long haul.

That night when Dean cuts his arm, he does nothing to stop the bleeding, just looks at the beautiful aching red and wishes his mom was still alive.

**_4._**

**_Dean: 12_**

**_Sam: 8_**

Dean is going to be sick, he's going to throw up all over his bed. He's safe, all tucked in and his eyes shut tight, hands over his ears trying to filter out the sounds of Sam's pain.

_"Please Dad, stop, that hurts!"_

_"Shut up Sam"_

_"I don't want to, please you're hurting me...Dean, where's Dean, I want Dean!"_

_"Sam I swear if you don't shut up now I'll beat you until you can't walk, got it? I don't care if I'm hurting you, this isn't about you, and Dean's not going to save you, not now and not ever. Unless you want me to do this to Dean instead of you, I'll hurt him instead, just ask me to Sammy boy."_

_"...okay. But, but don't hurt Dean, and only tonight, this hurts Daddy."_

_"I'll do it whenever I god damn please, now shut the fuck up."_

_"Ow, ow Dean help me, please help..."_

_"Stop talking, now."_

Sam's voice dies down immediately, and all that can be heard is the sound of skin slapping on skin, whimpers of pain, and grunts of perverted lust, a hitched breath of their mother's name and a deep sigh laced with evil.

John rolls away from Sam, and sits on the edge of the bed, looks up at the ceiling and gives a broken murmered apology to Mary, and leaves the room.

Sam keeps his head in the pillow, tries to ignore the pain and the smell of his father all over, consuming him and his innocence.

Dean's pillow is soaked with tears, and he gives a half-hearted whisper of "I'm sorry Sammy." And maybe it's in his head, but he swears he hears Sam whisper back "I know."

**_Fin._**


End file.
